


Brain Weevils

by Wynele



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Established Relationship, F/M, Humor, Lucifer and Trixie are besties, OC, Slice of Life, brain weevils
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-06-19 06:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15503988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynele/pseuds/Wynele
Summary: While her parents are out of town, Trixie succumbs to what may not be a normal illness. It falls to Lucifer to find a cure.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't actually going to write this fic. And then when I actually wrote it, I wasn't going to post it. It's more backstory, mental musing, for a long series I hope to eventually write should my own brain weevils be cured. Hopefully, you will enjoy.

It was Friday morning and Lucifer was bored. Chloe and Dan were away on some training seminar or whatnot, leaving him to his own devilish devices.

Lucifer looked up from his piano and took a long drag from the cigarette smoldering in the ashtray atop the piano. Lux was technically closed, but there were still a few patrons, yet to be tossed out, from the night before. His general manager leaned with her back to the bar, chatting with the bartender over her shoulder.

“Hey, Patrick? Here’s the order for next week,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose before handing him the tablet over her shoulder. “Tell me if I missed anything?”

Patrick took the tablet from her and quickly swiped, bobbing his head as he skimmed the order. “Ah, looks good.” He paused, pursing his lips, and tapped twice on the screen. “Order an extra case of the maple glazed peanuts. Boss’ kid likes them.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Lucifer sighed and shook his head. He’d given up correcting his staff years ago. Trixie had a perfectly good, well, perfectly passable father. Instead, he turned back to his piano and the set he was supposed to perform tonight. Hands hovering over the keys, he decided to simply play the first song that came to mind, but then pulled away when his phone rang.

He patted himself down, searching, and glanced at the bar where the phone rested near his manager’s elbow. She picked up the phone and answered, pushing away from the bar.

“Hello?” she answered crisply, her tone dripping professionalism, and then frowned. “Yes, he is. One moment.”

She walked over and handed him his phone. “It’s your kid’s school.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Lucifer swept into the local middle school as if he owned the place. Denied entry to the school proper, he paced the small entranceway and debated on whether or not he should retrieve the child himself.  

“Detective Decker is a lucky girl,” cooed the school receptionist, admiring him from across the room. “But I’m sure she knows that.”

He stopped in mid-step and turned on his heel to look at her. She leaned forward in response, giving him a clear view of her ample cleavage. A nervous chuckle escaped his lips as fussed with his cufflinks and straighten to his full height.

Glancing at the nameplate on her desk, his lips twisted into a smile as he gave her his best come-hither stare. He believed in giving credit where it was due, and her assets were rather spectacular for a woman pushing seventy.

“Why thank you,” he said, and then dropped his voice to a whispering purr. “Beverly.”

Beverly dissolved into a pile of girlish giggles, her lined cheeks flushing a fetching shade of crimson. “You rascal,” she hummed, eyelashes fluttering and waved him off. “I’m old enough to be your mother.”

“Not even close, my dear,” he purred, turning his charm up to eleven. If flirting helped him retrieve the offspring and be on his way, so be it. He was certain the Detective would agree. “Now tell me—”

Lucifer paused, frowning, as a strange sensation brushed against him. Something human, yet more so, was coming towards him. Frowning, he pushed open the door behind him.

Looking left and right, he stepped out into the hallway where he spotted Trixie approaching in the company a woman he assumed was her teacher.

The woman was quite young, no more than ten years Trixie’s senior, with red hair and a face full of freckles. Her arm was wrapped around Trixie’s shoulders, holding her close, as they walked together towards the office.

“Look, babes,” she whispered, rubbing the small of Trixie’s back, and smiled up at Lucifer. “Your step-dad is already here.”

Before Lucifer could correct the teacher, Trixie shook her head, squeezing her eyes together as if the lights in the hall were far too bright.

“s’not my step-dad,” Trixie muttered crabbily and moved away from the teacher to stare pitifully up at Lucifer. “Did you already sign me out?”

Lucifer nodded, too shocked at the sight of her to speak. Trixie was pale and haggard with dark circles beneath glassy eyes. A mere shadow of the bright, vibrant girl he had seen just two days before.

He laid a hand against her cheek, and then her forehead as he had seen the detective do countless times. Her skin felt cool and clammy, but there was no sign of fever. She spread her arms a fraction and took a weak step towards him.

Lucifer scooped her up on reflex, balancing her on his hip, as she burrowed her face into the crook of his neck. She was too old to be carried like this, but he didn’t care. Winding an arm around her middle, he turned back to the office when he realized the teacher was staring at him.

He stared back, holding her gaze, as the strange sensation from before wound around him. “Who are…”

Trixie whimpered and gripped the front of his shirt with one hand. “Lucifer.”

The woman blinked, shaking her head as if coming out of a trance, and then looked away. “Don’t forget to sign her out,” she said, her tone strained, and fled down the hall. Then, she stopped abruptly and spun on her heel to face him, her eyes wide and frazzled. “I hope she feels better.”

Lucifer frowned, staring down the hallway until she disappeared around the corner. A single thought crept across his mind. She knew.

“That’s Ms. Doyle,” Trixie said, wincing as if the sound of her own voice hurt. “She said she gets bad headaches sometimes, too.”

Lucifer shifted Trixie in his arms, looping his arms around his neck, and then looked around to make certain they were alone. “Hold on, child.”

There was a sudden uptick in the breeze as his wings unfurled, whisking them across the city in minutes. The moment his feet touched down on his penthouse balcony, Trixie lifted her head a little and blinked in her surroundings. “Whoa…” she breathed, her voice filled with awe. “Did we really just fly?”

“No, I flew,” Lucifer whispered, careful not to raise his voice. He carried her into his bedroom and laid her down on the bed. “You clung to me like a sickly opossum.”

She laid on her side, watching as he quickly drew the curtains, and then sat on the barest edge of the bed. He pulled off her shoes before pulling the blankets up to her chin.

“Try to sleep,” he whispered, running an absentminded hand over her head, and then rose from the bed. “I’ll call your mother.”

 

Trixie awoke to the north star blinking down at her from a gap in the curtains. Rolling over onto her back, she groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. She felt exhausted, her limbs heavy as if her bones were made of iron.

Her head still ached; not the vice grip pain of before, but a duller, deeper pain, like she had pulled a muscle in her brain. Fighting a wave of nausea, she pushed herself up on her elbows to see Lucifer sitting in a chair across the room.

His legs were crossed at the knee, a huge book propped open on his lap. He looked up at her, his black eyes glittering in the darkness. “Your mother will be here tomorrow evening.”

He closed the book carefully and laid it on the foot of the bed. It was then she realized that it wasn’t a book, at all, but rather a collection of bound scrolls. “I’m also supposed to ask if you took your medication,” he said, tapping his chin with one finger. “And to give you a stern talking to if you did not.”

Trixie hunched her shoulders, burrowing down into the pillows, and peaked up at him over the corner of the blanket. “I forgot.”

Shrugging, Lucifer rose from the chair and sat next to her on the bed. “Lesson learned, I suppose,” he said with a sort of thoughtful nonchalance. “Regardless I suspect there is more to your problem than brain weevils.”

Trixie wrinkled her nose, and then hissed, pain lancing through her skull. “Brain weevils?”

“It’s one translation of the condition, but not entirely accurate,” he said as if he were one of her teachers giving a lecture. “The word is….”

His lips moved, but Trixie heard nothing. Whatever he said, whatever spoke, was beyond mortal comprehension.  

“Which is used to describe a normally smart person who becomes so enamored with something or someone for reasons that only exist in their own minds that they act like a blithering idiot much to the annoyance of everyone around them. That is, except for their enabler, who, quite often is the source of the initial infection.”

Trixie narrowed her eyes at him, momentarily forgetting her headache, and shook her head in disbelief. “It’s super specific, Lucifer.”

“Angels tend to be super specific, my dear. Annoyingly so,” he said with a put-upon sigh, and then pushed her gently back among the pillows. “Anyway, that’s actually a mistranslation. What it really means is…” He paused, looking her in the eye for a long moment, and lifted two fingers. “Do you trust me, small human?”

“Yes,” Trixie murmured with a jerky bob of her head. Tears glittered in the corners of her eyes and she wasn’t sure why. “Since I was seven.”

Lucifer smiled faintly and brought his fingers to his lips. He kissed them lightly, and then pressed them to the center of her forehead.

For a moment there was nothing but the firm, steady pressure of Lucifer’s fingers. Then there was a sound, like the cracking of an egg breaking, and a sharp, agonizing pain where his fingers pressed into her skull.

She tried to scream, to push him away, but neither her limbs or her voice would obey. Shadows ate at the edges of her vision until she was in utter darkness. Musical laughter pattered around, soft at first, but growing with every passing beat of her heart.

Then, like a curtain being pulled away in her mind, she found herself floating in a great void. It was a cold and dark place where light wasn’t absent, but rather simply didn’t exist.

_Not yet…_

She spun, looking around, searching for the voice, only to realize it came from within. It was Lucifer. He was here, but not here. He was sitting beside her on the bed, fingers still pressed to her forehead. And he was here, hovering above her in the void, his gleaming white wings shattering the darkness.

The Lucifer-here swept down to hover before her, his wings kicking up a breeze where they could be no wind. Then, smiling brightly, he tipped his head back and began to sing.

His voice rang out, filling the empty places of the void with a soft, melodic tone that was felt rather than heard. Then there was a hiss, like the flaring of a match, and countless motes of light formed around him.

Then there was another sound, like the rustle of fabric, and edges of her vision slowly reappeared. She was back in Lucifer’s bed, blinking hard as he quickly removed his hand.

Trixie sat up a bit too quickly, sending a wave of nausea to her gut. “I saw you…” Light the stars, create the universe, she wasn’t sure which… “What did you do?”

“Oh, that,” Lucifer said with a good-natured hum, lifting his eyebrows to his hairline, and waved her off. “I merely poked you in your third eye.”

Trixie gave him a look he had seen more than a few times on her mother and squinted hard. “What?”

Lucifer sighed, shaking his head, pulled the blanket back up to her chin. “As I said, child. You have brain weevils.”

Trixie grimaced, suddenly realizing what her mother meant by _Luciferness._

“I have Nana’s headaches,” she correctly him crossly, scowling and rolling her eyes. “That she got from her Nana.”

“Yes, so your mother told me,” he said with a sigh and reached across the bed for the book. “Which prompted me to do a bit of my own research.”

He flipped open the book with obvious care and sat it on her lap. She grimaced and pushed the book away. The writing on the page made her head hurt.

“Interesting,” Lucifer said, his tone pleased, and then lifted a finger as if remembering the point he was trying to make. “It’s not uncommon for this sort of thing to skip generations or to be prevalent in one gender. Or both.”

Trixie squinted, and then popped one eye open to stare at him. “Are you saying I have genetic brain weevils?”

“Exactly!”

Trixie rolled her eyes and flopped over onto her belly, pouting into the pillows. After a moment, she turned her head to look at him. “Can you make them go away?”

Sadly, Lucifer shook his head and took her hand in his, worrying his thumb over her knuckles. He smiled fondly, but his eyes were sad. “If you had been born hundreds of years ago, you, Ms. Doyle, and perhaps even your grandmother would have been priestesses, wise women that warriors and kings would’ve flocked to.”

Trixie blinked at him, not understanding. “Why?” she asked, flippantly. “Were brain weevils all the rage in the Middle Ages?”

“Oh, well before that, my dear,” Lucifer replied, completely missing her sarcasm. “But, yes, there was a time when humanity treasured its psychics.”

“Psychics?” Trixie repeated, incredulously, her eyes widening as she sat up. “Are you saying I’m psychic?”

“That’s my current theory, unfortunately—”

“Cool!” Trixie crowed, kicking at the blankets and, at least for the moment, forgetting the headache that left her stricken. “Will I be able to read people’s minds or shoot brain lasers? Or what about—”

“Unfortunately,” Lucifer began again, a bit taken aback by her sudden enthusiasm, and then made a face. “Brain lasers?”

Trixie huffed, goggling her eyes at him in disbelief. “Like that’s any weirder than brain weevils.”

“Brain weevils actually exist for starters. I’ve seen the phenomena first hand,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Unfortunately, without a trainer, your abilities will be most likely be limited to giving other psychics headaches.”

“That sucks,” Trixie groused, rubbing at her aching temple, and then gasped in sudden realization. “Couldn’t Ms. Doyle teach me? You said she and Nana would be priestesses.”

“Ms. Doyle is as untrained as you are. I doubt she’s even aware of her abilities.” Lucifer pursed his lips and shook his head, real sympathy shining in his eyes. “Fortunately, you’ll only be in her class for a few more months.”

Trixie tried to smile, but only managed a half-hearted grimace. One of the things she liked most about Lucifer was that he didn’t lie, even to protect her. He treated her like a grownup. A small, sticky grownup that often interrupted his naked time with her mother, but a grownup just the same.

Without warning, her thoughts jumped to something that had been bothering her for a few weeks. Briefly, she wondered if were actually her that was troubled or someone else. “Are you going to marry Mom?”

Lucifer cringed, flinching away from her, and tried twice to speak before finally managing. “Your mother doesn’t want to get married.”

“How do you know?” she asked flippantly, crawling across the bed toward the book. “Have you ever asked?”

“She is fine with the current status of our relationship,” he sputtered, and then quickly amended, “more than fine.”

“If you say so,” Trixie replied, her tone uncertain, and fell among the pillows, book pressed against her chest.  She stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts wandering back the void.

Witnessing the birth of the stars, of the universe as she knew it, should have filled her with awe or at least surprised her. Instead, it felt more like a movie she had seen a thousand times.

“Everyone already thinks you’re my step-dad,” Trixie reminded, bracing herself before reopening the book. The center of her forehead itched as a tiny crack of light spilled into her mind. “It doesn’t bother you as much as you pretend.”

Lucifer fussed with his cufflinks for almost a full minute before closing the book and taking it from her. “Most children would be upset about the devil poking them in their third eye.”

“Most kids are stupid,” she admitted, sounding far older than her years. “They also don’t know that you let me hide chocolate cake in your Italian loafers.”

“I never let you, child.”

Trixie shrugged a smirk curling at her lips. “You didn’t get mad when you found out.”

It was Lucifer’s turn to smirk and lift his shoulders together in a shrug. “It was a good cake.”

Trixie groaned and moved from simply flopping on the bed to full out wallowing. “I can’t believe you ate it.”

Lucifer reached for the lamp on the bedside table and slowly brought up the light. “I suppose it’s up to me to feed you unless you have more cake stuffed in a loafer.”

“No, that was a one-time deal, especially after Mom yelled and told me your shoes cost more than she makes in a week.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, I’m afraid,” he said, tucking the blankets around her. “Besides, it’s likely my own fault for putting them in a closet out of reach.”

Trixie grimaced, wanting to play along, but not really feeling up to it. “What’s going to happen to me?” She made a circling motion around her head with one finger. “With the brain weevils, I mean.”

“In ages past, we would have found you a teacher or abandoned you in the woods for some druid to find.” Lucifer looked away, his jaw working. He was angry, but not at her. “Unfortunately, most of them were murdered in my father’s name centuries ago.”

Rising from the bed, he walked to his closet and vanished inside for a moment.  He reemerged a moment later, carrying a hot pink duffle bag with Ms. Alien tucked beneath his arm.

“Your regular sitter dropped a few things off,” he explained, dropped the bag on the floor beside the bed and handed her the toy before turning off the light. “Go back to sleep.”

 

Trixie dozed and dreamed of matt-painted islands and green rolling hills, of basalt pillars and gray raining ash. There was music and light and the soft patter of gentle laughter. Feathers floated around her in a winding maelstrom of the divine.  Each was a different color, a different shape. She reached and tried to catch one of the feathers, but they were too fast, too free.

She sat down on the grass or was it the ash? They seemed much the same. Around her the maelstrom slow, the feathers drifting off one by one. Most fluttered off in the same direction, while others took different paths. A single pure white feather remained until the maelstrom completely petered out, and then drifted towards her, swinging back and forth in the absent breeze.

Trixie held out her hand and allowed alight on her palm like a butterfly. Her fingers closed over the feather as her eyes opened, and she rejoined the waking world. Quickly, she checked her hands and unsurprisingly, she found them empty.

Feeling better than the day before, she rolled over to get out of bed and came nose-to-nose with an Italian loafer filled with chocolate cake. Trixie wrinkled her nose, a weird feeling coming over her. Not embarrassed exactly, but something. Then, realizing she was alone, stuck her finger into the icing.

It was a dark ganache, and the cake itself had strawberry filling. Her absolute favorite. Smiling and slightly teary, she hugged the shoe to her, getting chocolate on the bedsheets. She looked down at herself and gave one last look around the room before sucking the icing from the sheets.

Carefully setting the loafer back on the nightstand, she crawled out of bed and got dressed in the clothes Olga had brought her. Then, not bothering to brush her hair, she left the bedroom and went in search of Lucifer.

She found him in the kitchen, cutting and chopping, pausing ever so often to watch TV over his shoulder. “Mom’s going to be mad if you watch the next episode of _Legends of the Rose_ without her.”

Lucifer jumped, the knife clattering to the floor, and muttered a curse beneath his breath. It wasn’t easy to startle the devil, and yet, the offspring had somehow managed.

“I’m not,” he began to protest and then bent to pick up the knife and tossed it into the sink. “Do you want breakfast before—”

Alarm blossomed across his features as Trixie’s face crumpled. “Now, now, dearest,” he soothed, thinking she was feeling poorly again and opened a cupboard. “I have your medication right here.”

Before he could reach inside, she flung herself at him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I had a dream,” she sobbed into his hip. “It was…weird.”

Lucifer pried her gently from his waist and held her at arm’s length, looking her directly in the eye. “Weird how?”

Trixie bowed her head, thinking. The dream was nearly forgotten so that only the barest of whispers remained. “I think I was in heaven or hell. Both. And there were feathers, but I think they might have really been angels. I don’t know.”

He cupped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “Or they may have simply been feathers,” he said kindly, and let go of her chin. “Even gods dream simply to dream.”

Trixie bobbed her head numbly, and then looked up at him, incredulity written on her face. “Gods? You mean others besides…” she whispered and jabbed her thumb skyward. “Him?”

“Oh, indeed. In fact, some of my siblings are revered as gods,” he explained, frowning as he read the label on her prescription. “You’re supposed to take these with food.”

“You too,” she said, grunting as she climbed up on one of the breakfast nook stools. “If you count Satanists.”

Lucifer selected a knife from the block and turned back to his cutting board. “Any so-called Satanist that worships me is clearly misguided,” he said as he diced scallions and tossed them into a bowl. “And Luciferians generally know better.”

Trixie stared at her reflection on the counter, and then looked up at Lucifer. She stared hard at him, concentrating. Then, just when she thought something might, he turned to her, holding an egg.

“What do you want on your frittata?”

After breakfast, Lucifer made sure she took her medication and then bundled them both into his car. They went shopping and ran errands, most of which Trixie realized were actually her mother’s. Then, at a little after one, they stopped for lunch and he let her pick the place.

“You know?” she said, leaning with her elbows on the table as she sucked on her straw. “I think I’m mad at you.”

Baffled, Lucifer tilted his head at her and lifted his eyebrows. “Whatever for?”

Trixie took a long, loud slurping drink from her straw and began ticking off on her fingers. “You poked me in the forehead, which gave me another huge migraine. Then you give me this weird vision and tell me I’m psychic and then act like it’s no big deal.”

Lucifer licked a bit of ketchup on his finger and frowned. “It isn’t a big deal, child.”

“Maybe not to you,” Trixie whispered harshly, shaking her head. “You’re Mr. Light Brite!”

“Mr. Light Brite?” Lucifer repeated, pressing a mortified hand to his chest. He looked utterly offended. “I’ll have you know, child—”

He stopped in mid-rant when Trixie made a strangled sound and pawed at her face. “Are you all right?”

Trixie grumbled, pulling at her hair, and then sighed, dropping her shoulders. “It’s just why can’t Mom have the brain weevils? She’s the one blessed by your dad.”

“Actually,” Lucifer began, his tone thoughtful. “Your grandmother is the one blessed by my father. Your mother is more a blessing by-product.”

Trixie wrinkled her nose, a spark of mischief glittering in her eyes. “You mean like a hotdog?”

“Indeed, child,” he purred, eyes filled with amusement. “Chloe Decker, miracle hotdog—”

“Nu-uh,” Trixie protested, seeming to read his mind-which at this point was quite possibly true-and waggled her finger in his face. “No jokes about eating my mother.”

“I would never,” Lucifer gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense, and then relented at the sight of her sideways glare. “At least not in front of you.”

“Yeah,” Trixie sighed and began picking at her french fries. “Anyway, so, I have brain weevils.”

“No,” Lucifer corrected, taking a drink of his own soda. “That’s a mistranslation of the latent psychic ability that occurs in roughly a fifth of the mortal population.”

Trixie frowned into her burger, her eyelashes fluttering. “That means that even after I’m out of Ms. Doyle’s class, I’ll eventually run into another psychic.”

“I’m afraid so, child,” Lucifer said with a nod. “But your medication will help with the headaches.”

“Unless I forget to take them, or they quit working,” Trixie grumbled, pointing a defiant french fry at the sky. “I want brain lasers.”

“Still no such thing,” he said absently and tapped at his chin with one finger. “As I said before, your headaches are caused by the minds of other untrained psychics smacking against yours. There is nothing we can do for them, but…”

A thoughtful look came over his features. “It might be possible to, if not train you, at least alleviate the worst of your symptoms.”

Trixie dropped her fry in mid-bite and leaned forward. “How? You said all the ancients died before they passed on their knowledge.”

“True,” he said simply, placing an infinite weight on a solitary word. “But the being who taught them is still very much alive.”

Gasping in delight, Trixie sat up straighter and leaned forward toward him in her booth. “They’d be willing to help me?”

Lucifer grimaced, bobbing his head slightly as considered. “She’d probably want a favor, possibly several. That is if I can even contact her, which will be difficult.”

“Oh,” Trixie breathed, her sudden delight wilting into disappointment. She picked up a fry and dragged it through a puddle of ketchup. The center of her forehead throbbed, and she looked up to see an elderly woman walk up to the counter.

“But difficult has never been a reason not to try,” Lucifer said softly, giving her a watery smile, and nodded to her tray. “Finish your lunch, child.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to expand this a tiny bit so it'll end up being a three-parter instead of two. Alas, brain weevils.

Trixie poked her head out of the bushes and peered at the devil himself. “Shouldn’t we have an adult with us?”

Lucifer looked up from his scroll and stared at her as if she had grown a second head. “What?”

She made a fussy, whimpering sound as she squeezed her eyes shut and threw back her head, stomping her feet for good measure. “Lucifer,” she whined, peering at him pitifully, and scrunched her face. “I’m cold.”

“Well, put on your coat, child,” he said, waving her off, and then returned to his scroll. “Honestly.”

Pouting, Trixie retrieved her coat from the nearby bench. It was powder pink crochet and covered with so much fringe that it looked furry. Grumbling to herself, she tossed the coat back on the bench and rounded on the devil. “You dress like a maître d’.”

Lucifer uttered a scandalized gasp, failing his hand against his chest. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” she said, scowling while doing a mental dance of triumph. Picking a fight with Lucifer was always fun, especially since he never seemed to become truly angry. More often than not, they would end up making each other laugh rather than do any actual fighting.  And with this about to be their fourth unsuccessful attempt at beseeching the angel Zadkiel for her aid, she found herself in need of a little humor.

The first attempt involved the ritualistic burning of three of her most prized possessions, and the scattering the embers to the wind. All she really learned from that exercise was that Ms. Alien was not nearly as flame retardant as her factory warranty seemed to imply.

For her next attempt, she took a lock of her hair and braided it with locks from both her mother and grandmother. She pulled the braid between her hands, tying off the ends before wrapping it around a moonstone the size of her fist. It was a fair attempt at a fetish, according to Lucifer who then took her to the wine cellar of Lux.

The building that housed Lux was built on a series of intersecting ley lines. As they found their way into old prohibition era tunnels, Lucifer explained that while ley lines were technically under the dominion of another of his sisters, all angels could use them to communicate across the planes. At his instruction, she laid the fetish on the conjunction of lines. Not that she could see them, but Lucifer assured her they were there. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened, but it would be weeks before she had another headache. 

The next ritual required her to be abandoned on a mountainside with only a knapsack. Lucifer seemed delighted with the idea until he realized that only truly meant only, and quickly chunked the centuries-old scroll into the fireplace.

After that Lucifer decided to abandon his scrolls and return to what he knew of witches of old.  Which is what brought them both out here in the middle of the night. Apparently, the witches of old enjoyed meditating, poison ivy, and getting chiggers in their butt-crack.   

“You look like a maître d’,” Trixie said again, and then squished her face until her eyes were narrowed into slits. Once again, she wished she had brain lasers. “A maître d’ or a really successful funeral director!”

Lucifer made a face, mouth open, and one nostril higher than the other. He hunched his shoulders slightly and craned his neck, giving himself a double chin. Flustered, he fussed with his cufflinks for a moment, allowing the scrolls to fall into his lap.

“First all,” Lucifer said, raising a finger. “Most funeral directors are successful. It’s the benefit of overcharging for a useless product. As for the rest,” he gestured to himself with a flourish. “Someone has to balance your mother’s love of dressing like a well-to-do homeless person.”

Trixie made a thoughtful sound and tilted her head sideways, wrinkling her nose. “It’s more hobo chic.”

Lucifer bounced on the bench, obviously delighted, and then grew serious and waved her off. “She doesn’t own enough beanies or fingerless gloves to pull off a true hobo chic look.”

Sighing into a pout, Trixie sat on the very end of the bench and scooted over on her bottom until she was sitting next to Lucifer. “Are you and Mom going to have a baby?”

The scroll fell from Lucifer’s hand to roll off his lap onto the ground where it ended up in bushes across the path. “What makes you say?” he sputtered, paling just slightly around the edges, but then managed to recover, if only barely. “Your mother doesn’t want more children.”

Trixie made a little “o” with her mouth and rolled her eyes. “Have you ever asked her?” Trixie chided and hopped off the bench to retrieve the scroll.

“No,” Lucifer admitted, pressing his lips together in a frown. “I’m not one for marriage or children, child. It’s best to accept me as I am.”

“Yeah,” Trixie mouthed rather than said. In that moment she looked so much like her mother. She locked eyes with him and handed him the scroll. “Well, just have it next year or the year after. That way I’m in college before it gets annoying.”  
  
Lucifer didn't dignify her words with a response but instead buried his head deeper into his scrolls. Bored, Trixie breathed a mock sigh and plopped down beside him on the bench, leaning heavily into his shoulder. “I don’t think Professor X is coming.”

“Zadkiel is more Jean Grey than Professor X, I’m afraid,” he said, looking up from his scroll to frown at the moon. “But, yes, suspect you are correct.”

He then stood abruptly, sending Trixie falling sideways with a squeak. Shrugging, he gathered his scrolls and began putting them in their satchel. He spared her a brief glance before shouldering the back. “Come along child.”

Then, without waiting to see if she would follow, he started down the winding path back to the house.

 

Trixie sat at her desk at school, pretending to struggle with the last question on her history test. Really, she was watching Ms. Doyle. Her teacher sat at her desk, nearly sliding out of her chair. The length of one hand covered her eyes as her thumb rubbed circles into her temple. She moved her hand to stifle a yawn and then crossed her arms over her chest, shivering.

Biting her lip, Trixie quickly filled in the last answer and got up from her desk as quietly as possible. She tiptoed to Ms. Doyle’s desk and folded her test in half before laying it gently in the inbox. Ms. Doyle looked up at her briefly, managing a watery smile.

Trixie made her way back to her desk and retrieved her backpack. She glanced up at the clock above the whiteboard. School would let out for the day in two minutes. Ms. Doyle pulled out her phone and groggily sent a text before obviously bracing herself.

The school bell clattered through the classroom, seeming to shake Ms. Doyle from within. Trixie waited until her classmates had left before rising from her own desk. She crossed the room to her teacher, careful not to make any unnecessary noise.

“Ms. Doyle?” Trixie whispered, edging as close as she dared. She narrowed her eyes, trying to block out the sudden stabbing light, and swallowed back a curl of nausea. Lucifer was right. She and Ms. Doyle were giving each other headaches. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, babes,” she whispered, swallowing when she tried to give Trixie a reassuring smile. “It's just a headache.”

Trixie nodded jerkily, fighting a wave of guilt, and slipped her hand into her pocket. She pulled out a small figurine. It was the size of a pink eraser, carved from purple and green stone into the shape of a dragonfly.

“Luc—My stepdad gave me this when my headaches started,” she explained and slipped the stone beneath Ms. Doyle’s limp hand. “He said it’s supposed to help.”

Before Ms. Doyle could say anything, Trixie fled the classroom and then ran as fast as she could to the bus.

 

Ms. Doyle was absent for the rest of the week. She would be back Monday insisted the substitute teacher. Until then, they were to read the next three chapters in their text and go over the review questions.

 

Trixie flopped around in her bed, debating whether she should get up. It was still early enough that her mom and Lucifer were still in bed. A little evil grin curled at her lips as she considered knocking on her mother’s bedroom door, anyway. In bed didn’t mean they were asleep and it was always hilarious to see her mom physically kick Lucifer from the bed and toss a blanket over his head before stumbling to the door wrapped in a sheet.

Trixie flopped over onto her belly and pillowed her head on her arms. As much fun as it would be to prank her mom, and extension Lucifer, it was Saturday. Besides, Lucifer was staying the entire weekend.

Decision made, she yawned widely, and had dozed off to sleep when there was a loud crash upstairs. Without thinking, Trixie bound her bed and rushed up the stairs. She arrived in time to a shirtless Lucifer dragging an auburn-haired woman out of the bedroom by her elbow.

“Honestly, Lucifer. Whatever is your problem?” the woman chided and yanked her elbow free. Her accent was similar to Lucifer’s but slightly less refined. She smoothed her billowing sleeves and then adjusted one of the jeweled combs in her air. “I said I’d wait until you were done.”

“Lucifer,” Chloe growled from the bedroom, followed by a muffled curse and the rustle of fabric. “Get her out of here, now!”

“Right,” Lucifer snapped, reaching for the woman again. “You heard her.”

“Indeed, I did,” the woman retorted, deadpan, with an exaggerated nod, and jerked her arm free. “Because I’m not deaf.”

Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience wearing thin. “Zadkiel—”

“Whoa,” Trixie breathed from her place at the top of the stairs, her eyes wide with awe. “It actually worked.”

Zadkiel turned toward the stairs and angled her body sideways to peer at Trixie with wide, amused eyes. “It certainly did,” she hummed, and then her humor died with a wave of her hand. “Whatever it is you’re talking about.”

Trixie lifted her eyebrows, eyeing the angel warily. Lucifer had described his sister as more Jean Grey than Professor X for a reason that probably went beyond red hair. “We summoned you—"

“Humans,” Zadkiel snorted, dismissing Trixie with a bored gesture, and then turned to address Lucifer. “If this is about Ramona Doyle, I’ll tell you what I told Raziel. I’ll teach her when she’s dead.”

“She’s twenty-three,” Lucifer insisted, clearly aghast, the corner of his jaw twitching. “And what does Raziel have—”

“All right,” Chloe growled as she barreled past Lucifer, sending him stumbling. She was wearing Lucifer’s shirt from the night before over a pair of old leggings. Her morning bedhead had been finger combed and shoved into a messy half-bun. And yet, even as disheveled as she was, her back remained straight and chin held defiantly up. Fixing her jaw, she looked over her shoulder at Trixie. “Go downstairs, Monkey.”

“But, Mom,” Trixie pleaded, forgetting that her mother had developed an immunity to puppy dog eyes. “We've been trying to—”

Her mother shook her head, lips pressed tightly together, and wagged a long finger in Zadkiel’s direction. “And you,” she ranted, pointing with her finger for emphasis. “You don’t get to come into my house and perch on my footboard like some sort of homeless seagull.”

“Seagull?” Zadkiel repeated with a sort of incredulous amusement and then tilted her head as if considering. “I’m closer to a flamingo or maybe a moderately disgruntled ostrich who has had its hopes and dreams crushed by the wheels of eternity.”

Chloe goggled at Zadkiel, eyes bugling just slightly, and shook her head. “Okay,” she mouthed more than said and then shot Trixie a warning look. “Now, Monkey.”

 

Trixie sat at the breakfast islander, barely able to contain her excitement.  After months of trying and dozens of failures, she and Lucifer had finally managed to get Zadkiel here.

“Actually,” Zadkiel hummed before taking a sip of her coffee. She made a face, wrinkling her nose, and then shoved the cup to the far end of the counter. “I’m here because Raziel wouldn’t quit pestering me about it.”

Trixie blinked back her surprise, feeling her cheeks pink. “How did you…” she hunched her shoulders, sinking further down into her stool. “Right, psychic.”

Zadkiel made a little humming sound and looked up when Lucifer entered the room. Smirking at her brother, she drummed her fingernails against the countertop. They were long and lovingly manicured, each painted with a different fantastical scene.

“I prefer mentalist,” she mused, and sobered, glancing at Lucifer with serious eyes. “So, brother. What was so important that you decided to sic little sister on me.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to speak, but Trixie beat him to it.

“Wait,” Trixie said with a grin, eyes wide and teasing. Lucifer pressed his lips together and shook his head, which only encouraged her further. “You let your little sister tell you what to do?”

Zadkiel snorted and narrowed her eyes before helping herself to a strip of bacon. “I do when I can get a favor from the devil out of it. Although, I’m not sure why he cares.”

“Right,” Lucifer snapped, grinding his teeth. There was a brief, undeniable flash of hurt across his face before his eyes grew hard. “It’s simple, sister—

“No, no,” Chloe yelled as she swept into the room. She had showered and dressed, her damp hair done up in a braid. In an instant, she was on the other side of the islander and shoving Lucifer protectively behind her. “No!”

Eyes fixed on Chloe, Zadkiel took a bite of her bacon and slowly chewed. “As you wish,” she said dismissively and made a big display of dusting off her hands. “But only because you have nice shins.”

“Shins?” Chloe repeated, her entire head twitching and her eyes narrowing. “I have nice shins?”

“From what I could see,” she said with a small, secretive smile, and selected a piece of toast from the plate in front of her. “Did you know that in some cultures, toast scraping is considered romantic?”

Chloe narrowed her eyes into a squint and peered at the angel seated at the islander. When Lucifer tried to escape from behind her, she flung arm out caging him against the sink. “Really?”

“No, never,” Zadkiel replied, her eyebrows grazing her hairline. “Who goes straight to burnt toast when asked to list the reasons they love someone?”

“I have no idea,” Chloe deadpanned, glaring over her shoulder at Lucifer, who merely peered back at her in confusion. She bowed her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “So, what exactly do you want?”

“At the moment, for Ithuriel and Tsukuyomi to just do it already,” Zadkiel said with an exasperated sigh. “Honestly, three centuries of will they, won’t they are far beyond what anyone should have to endure.”

Zadkiel looked up to see both Chloe and her brother staring down at her. Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, glanced briefly at Trixie sitting anxiously beside her, and then back at Lucifer.

“The girl’s gifts have only barely begun to manifest, Lucifer,” Zadkiel explained, her tone almost bored and clicked her nails against the countertop. “Her awareness, alone, will ward off most of the headaches.

“Wait, you’re serious,” Chloe breathed and allowed her hand to drop, freeing Lucifer from the sink. She shook her head, her eyes widening with the realization she hadn’t quite let herself believe. “Trixie is psychic.”

“Yes,” Zadkiel deadpanned, shooting Lucifer a look of pure disbelief. “As is your mother, her grandmother, and your grandmother’s grandmother. Oh, and your boyfriend is the devil.”

Chloe clamped her mouth shut, clenching her jaw as she thrust out her chin. She laughed without humor and poked the air with her finger in Zadkiel’s direction. “You are something else.”

Zadkiel brows knit together as she shook her head. “No, Lucifer and I are both angels. We just have different jobs.”

“On that note, sister,” Lucifer said, leaning forward to look Zadkiel in the eyes, but then drew back at her sudden, shocked expression. “What?”

“Wow,” she breathed out in awe and reached up to cup his cheek. Gently she turned his face so that she could see his profile. “That’s… wow.”

“Yes, yes, I’m amazing,” Lucifer fussed, pulling Zadkiel’s hand away from his face. “But right now, and pains me to say it, we have more important matters.”

“More important than the revelation that Raziel is basically a younger you with boobs?” Zadkiel tutted, pursing her lips. “She even has the nose.”

She smirked when Lucifer’s hand went reflexively to his face, but then sigh and shook her head. Her face crumpled just slightly, and she bowed her head, eyelashes fluttering as she stared at the countertop. “I can’t, brother. You know what happened last time.”

Chloe traded a glance with Lucifer and then moved protectively toward Trixie. “What happened?”

Zadkiel snorted a laugh, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “The devil became associated with goats.” Breathing a shaky breath, she straightened and smoothed her hands over her face. “There was more to it, of course. There always is.”

“It’s a different world, sister.”

A brittle smile formed on Zadkiel’s lips as she looked up at her brother with obvious fondness. “It was a different world that put my beloved friends to the sword. A world that is still darker for their loss.”

Trixie snuggled deeper into the safety of her mother’s arms and tried to be patient as she listened. It wasn’t like Lucifer to talk around her. His reasons for doing so had to be important.

Zadkiel rose abruptly from her stool and took a wide step back. “I don’t hold you responsible, Lucifer. I never have.”

A mixture of emotions flowed over Lucifer’s face before settling into clenched jaw firm lines. “It won’t happen again, Kiely,” he said, purposely using her old childhood nickname. “You have my word.”

“That’s the single most annoying thing about you, Lucifer,” Zadkiel said, not unkindly. “Even your faults are noble.” When it was obvious her brother didn’t understand, she sighed before elaborating further. “You never lose faith, in humanity, in the people you love, no matter how many times that faith is betrayed.

“Nonsense,” Lucifer insisted, confused as to why Chloe suddenly looked away and refused to look at him. “Humans are—”

“Fussy, high-strung, and give their genitals funny names?” Zadkiel began, counting off on her fingers. “Like love canal. Why is it even called a canal? Are there piranhas in it?”

Chloe cleared her throat, as bulging and lips twitching as she gestured to Trixie with her chin.

Lucifer opened, but then closed his mouth, his expression quizzical. “Ah, no piranha, sister,” he began, confused as to why the detective suddenly threw up her hands. “Although, some have claimed to find teeth.”

Zadkiel laughed a little, but then almost immediately sobered and looked skyward. “I have seen nothing of humanity to believe they have grown beyond the need to sentence one another to the pyre.”

She rolled her shoulders and there was a sudden whoosh of air as her wings unfurled around her. They were red and orange and tipped in a pure golden yellow. The colors of a fire, or a phoenix, with accents of pale glowing blue.

“Wait,” Trixie squeaked and pulled away from her mother to rush at the departing angel. “At least tell me what I can do?”

“Ah, little mortal. You’ll find I’m utterly immune to puppy dog eyes,” Zadkiel mused, amusement glittering with something unnamed, but then she softened a little, relenting. “Still judging by Raziel pearl-clutching and your age. I’d say you have a rudimentary form of clairaudience. In short, you’re a seer.”

Before she could explain further, Trixie uttered an excited, ear-piercing shriek and flung her arms around the angel.  “Cool!”  

The angel yelped in protest, her entire form going still as she cast a helpless glance to her brother. “She does know what rudimentary means, no?”

“It means basic,” Trixie reported, stepping back to bounce on the balls of her feet.  “Like something that can grow into something bigger. Like brain lasers!”

“Brain weevils, more like,” Zadkiel grumbled to herself. “It also means crude and undeveloped. Without training, your abilities will likely fade.

“Oh.” Trixie sagged a little, obviously disappointed, but then grew hopeful. “But that’s only if I don’t get training, right?”

Zadkiel pursed her lips together and looked from Lucifer to Chloe before returning her gaze to Trixie. “Your headaches would fade, or at least diminish, and you would have a normal life.”

Trixie grunted in frustration and bowed her head, glaring at the tips of Zadkiel copper-toed boots. After a moment, a sly grin appeared on her lips and she peeked up at the angel through her bangs. “My stepdad’s the devil.”

Lucifer began to protest but was quickly silenced by an elbow to the gut from Chloe.

“What she means is,” Chloe quickly explained, stepping forward. “That her life isn’t normal, to begin with.”

Zadkiel nodded, her expression mild, but mocking. “I know what she meant, dear. Her life isn’t normal and will be even less so should you ever work up the courage to ask my brother to do the thing with the thing where he puts his thing into your thing.”

“Done and done, sister,” Lucifer chirped, obviously proud. “Many, many times.”

“I saw,” Zadkiel agreed with a bob of her head, and then looked curious. “I was not aware human knees could bend that way.”

Chloe cleared her throat and once again made eyes in Trixie’s direction. Just once she’d like to meet an angel who didn’t say the first thing that popped into their mind. “Right.”

“He will say yes, of course,” Zadkiel mused, a long finger tapping at her chin. “He can deny you nothing.” A groan of realization escaped her lips and she locked eyes with Lucifer, shaking her head. “Fine, I’ll teach her,” she began, lifting a silencing finger at the sound of Trixie’s overjoyed squeal. “But you owe me a favor.”

“Fine,” Lucifer spat, jaw clenching as he glared. “But I’m not going back to Hell.”

“I don’t care about Hell,” Zadkiel said, exhaling through her nostrils. “Although, now that I think on it. Training the girl will take months, even years. I may need a few minor favors along the way.” She smirked, giving her brother a knowing look. “In addition to the blank cheque, you’ll write me.”

“Wait, hold on,” Chloe interjected quickly, shoving Lucifer protectively behind her. “Why are you suddenly so agreeable?”

“Many reasons,” Zadkiel murmured, eyeing Chloe up and down. “But mostly because Raziel won't stop pestering me until I do.”

“Right,” Chloe said, hesitantly, and then looked at Lucifer. “Can we trust her?”

Lucifer pressed his lips to Chloe’s forehead, nodding before he kissed the end of her nose. “I wouldn’t have called her if we couldn’t.”

“Good, it’s settled,” Zadkiel said, clasping her hands together. “Just drop her off on the nearest mountainside and I’ll take it from there.”  

There was a sudden updraft of wind, making the curtain billow and tugging at their hair. And then, it was just the three of them.

Trixie beamed, more excited than she had ever been in her short life and turned to see her mother scowling at Lucifer. “No.”

“Now, Detective, she wasn’t serious,” Lucifer consoled and turned his back to himself a fresh cup of coffee. “Probably.”

 

That night, Trixie dreamed. More importantly, she knew was dreaming. In her dream, she walked along a long winding path, circling the foot of a mountain. Above her, the sky was black and full of stars, but around her, it was still daylight. It wasn’t the daylight of early morning or late evening, but the pure, unfiltered light of high noon. It was as if someone had ripped the sky from the world.

Suddenly there was a flash of light followed by the screech of an owl. She shielded her eyes on reflex, and then was nearly knocked to the ground by a sudden buffet of wind. Uncovering her eyes, she whipped her head around and gasped in surprise.

She was no longer on the mountainside, but somewhere deep within a forest. Zadkiel lounged on a wicker throne before her, munching on what looked to be pork rinds.

“Lesson one, my dearest,” she said, breaking a rind in half before taking a bite. “Never take a path in an obvious dream.”


	3. Chapter Three

Her mother and Lucifer were fighting again. Well, not fighting exactly. More lowering their voices to a loud whisper whenever she was near. It was funny at first, especially since they seemed completely unaware that she already knew the secret they were desperately trying to keep from her. Although, she supposed they weren’t keeping it from her so much trying to figure out a way to break the news to her gently.

Still, it had been over a month now, and it was starting to get a little sad.

“Argh, you guys,” Trixie groused, sounding for all the world like an annoyed housecat. Kitten angry was what Zadkiel liked to call it. “I already know Mom’s pregnant.”

Both her mother and Lucifer froze where they were cooking dinner, and then turned to gawk at her. After a moment, the two traded glances and Lucifer gave her mother a small shrug before turning down the heat on the stove.

Grabbing a hot pad, he opened the oven door and gave the lamb roast a quick baste. He closed the oven door and tossed the hot pad on the counter. Chloe made a sound, a nervous, almost laugh and moved towards her daughter, stopping at the edge of the islander.

“Ah, baby, did you…” Chloe began and twisted at her hands until they were pressed against her chest in awkward angles. “Do you…is this a psychic thing?”

“No, it’s more a none of your shirts fit thing,” Trixie groaned, rolling her eyes, and then hopped up from her chair. “Plus, you and Lucifer are always doing it. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

Chloe looked down at herself where the buttons of her shirt were gapped and strained across her breasts.

“Yeah,” she more mouthed than said, deciding to ignore the latter half of Trixie’s statement, and then smoothed down the front of her shirt to reveal the swell of her belly. “I guess it’s time for maternity clothes.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lucifer said with a hum in his tone and moved away from the stove to wrap his arms around her. “I rather enjoy the random button pop.”

“You guys,” Trixie whined, wrinkling her nose, and then stared up at Lucifer, pursing her lips. “At least you waited a year like I asked.”

Chloe’s jaw dropped, and she blinked hard before twisting around in Lucifer’s arms. “Wait, what?”

Lucifer shot Trixie an incredulous look punctuated by a nervous laugh before dropping a kiss on Chloe’s forehead “You did tell Ms. Lopez that if it happened it happened, and then when I asked you told me the same thing, so I…” he ghosted a hand over her belly and looked utterly devastated.

“Lucifer,” Chloe soothed and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him softly, smiling when he tipped his head down to press his forehead against hers. “I was trying to let you—”

Behind her Trixie gagging noises, while clutching at her throat. “Way to ruin a perfectly good joke, mom.”

Fighting a smirk, Chloe gave Lucifer a quick peck before slipping from his arms. She walked over to Trixie and put her hands on her hips so that her belly protruded further than usual. “So just my shirts, huh?”

“Well, it was also Lucifer’s epic rant about how his favorite designer didn’t have a children’s line,” Trixie said, trying to sound coy, but there was something buzzing on the edge of her senses. It was the same feeling she had whenever Lucifer or Zadkiel was near but still unseen.

Frowning thoughtfully, she laid her palm on her mother’s belly, just below her navel. Chloe covered Trixie’s hand with her own and smiled warmly.

“That’s your sister, Monkey,” Chloe said softly, her eyes sparkling with tears, but then gasped when Trixie’s expression went blank. “Trixie?”

Trixie gasped, shaking her head, her pupils shirking to pinpoints. Light flooded her mind’s eye, the pure silvery glow of a distant star. It spiraled and coiled, coalescing into a pure white feather.

The feather quivered in the darkness, white light streaking from its barbs until a smaller feather formed beside it. It was the pure white of the first but had a nimbus of silvery blue. The small feather drifted in the void, weaving, and dancing until it finally wound itself around the quill of the larger.

Trixie jerked away as the vision faded, her eyes searching her mother’s face. “You’re having twins.”

Chloe choked a laugh and gave Trixie a jerky nod. “No, baby, just one,” she said shakily, worry evident in her tone. “What did you see?”

Trixie smiled softly and laid her hand back on her mother’s stomach. “I think she likes me.”

 

********

“Mom’s having twins.”

Zadkiel lounged back on her wicker throne and crossed her legs at the knee. They weren’t in a dream this time but in a real tangible place. It was a pocket plane between planes, a realm created just for them.

“No,” the angel said simply and pulled out a bag of chips that had been stuffed into the cushions of her throne. She pierced the bag with one of her long nails, and then popped a chip into her mouth. “If I had to guess, I would say that the larger feather represents Lucifer, while the smaller is the child currently within your mother’s womb.”

Trixie nodded, a bit disappointed, and bobbed her head before sitting down on the ground at Zadkiel’s feet. She frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to her. “Will she be psychic too?”

“All angels are psychic to a certain degree, and it will be in her lineage,” Zadkiel said thoughtfully and shrugged while licking cheese dust from her fingers. “So, it’s a definite maybe.”

Trixie tipped her head back to look up at the sky. There was no sun or clouds, only a single dark moon staring back at her. “You said your sister made this place.”

“Yes. Raziel. You mortals know her by many names,” Zadkiel said simply, smiling softly. Her voice took on a lyrical quality as if retelling a favorite story. “Isis, Hekate, Minerva, but to us, to me, she has always been a pain in the butt.”

Trixie leaned her elbows against her knees so that she could cradle her chin in her hands. “Why are my visions so weird?” she asked, wrinkling her nose slightly. “They’re like dreams I’m having while I’m awake.”

Zadkiel pulled another chip from the bag and snapped it in half before popping it into her mouth. “It’s because they are dreams you’re having while you’re awake.”

She tipped the bag of chips toward Trixie, nodding when the girl helped herself to a handful.

“They will grow clearer in time,” the angel explained and then sighed before popping another chip into her mouth, “or grow more convoluted. It depends on the whimsy of your mind.”

“The whimsy of my mind?” Trixie deadpanned, sounding so much like her mother. “What does that even mean?”

Zadkiel smiled coldly, her eyes growing hard. “You can see into the path of angels, child,” she said sternly, her words like a licking hiss of flame. “It is easy to think of us as simply humans with wings and that would be a grave mistake.”

Trixie swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. “Your dad is God,” she said in awe as if the realization had only just occurred to her. Her eyes widened to saucers. “My sister’s grandpa is going to be God.”

“Yep,” Zadkiel said with a pop and shifted on her throne. “But as I was saying. The mortal mind was never intended to see into the divine. It is interpreting the information best it can.”

“Never intended,” Trixie repeated softly and chewed on the end of a chip. There was a piece to the puzzle missing. Zadkiel offered information freely, it was only the matter of asking the correct questions. “How can I see into the divine if my mind isn’t made to see into the divine?”

Zadkiel made a thoughtful humming sound and stared out the forest of oak and yew. “It is because Father adjusted his plan just enough to allow for your mother’s existence.”

“And because Mom exists, I exist.”

“Yes.” The angel nodded and rose gracefully from her throne. “And because you exist, your children will exist, and their children and so on and so on into an endless eternity.” She smiled faintly and tapped her chin with one lacquered fingernail. “All because Father would rather warp reality than speak to his children.”

Trixie hopped up off the ground and dusted off her jeans. It was nearly time to return home. “So, he doesn’t talk to any of you.”

“No,” Zadkiel drew out, eyes widening slightly in mock indignation. She rose from her throne and rolled her shoulders, unfurling her flame-hued wings. “Not even to the good angels, of which I am not.”

“You’re not bad. I mean, I think, you’re a good person, uh, angel,” Trixie admitted lamely as she pawed at the dirt with her toe, and then gazed up at Zadkiel. “And you have phoenix wings, which is kind of awesome.”

“I have angel wings,” Zadkiel corrected with a brief roll of her eyes and then looped an arm around Trixie’s waist. The world shimmered and in an instant, they were back in Trixie’s room.

She released Trixie immediately and then folded her wings before sitting down on the floor.

“If you are asking if I am the phoenix of mortal legend, then yes. But legends don’t always reflect reality,” Zadkiel said, a soft, satisfied purr in her tone. “I am no more or less immortal than any of my kin.”

She stretched and fussed with the jeweled combs in her hair before scratching at the nape of her neck. “Truthfully, if any of us could be considered the phoenix of legend, it would be Lucifer. He’s died and come back what is it? Six times now?”

“I think it’s closer to nine,” Trixie said with a sigh, and then kicked off her shoes before plopping down on the bed. She was exhausted, as she often was after spending the day under Zadkiel’s tutelage. “I read somewhere that The Lightbringer and The Phoenix were related.

“Sam and I are siblings,” the angel replied cagily and then seemed to consider for a moment. “So, it should be no surprise that our spheres within the celestial hierarchy overlap a bit.”

Trixie rolled her head sideways so that she could squint at the angel. As usual, Zadkiel was telling her a great deal while seeming to say nothing. “Lucifer,” she corrected with a dry, deadpan tone, “doesn’t like to be called Samael.”

Zadkiel drew back, hand on her chest in mock offense. “Well, I don’t like that you mortals assume all angels are men or that we lack genitals.” She uttered an exasperated sigh and threw up her hands. “Why would we not have genitals?”

Eyes darting side to side, Trixie mouthed a “wow.” She hadn’t expected that particular tangent. “You and Lucifer are totally related.”

Zadkiel hummed a sigh and laid back on the floor to peer at the ceiling. “Everything Father does. Everything he has created is for but one purpose.”

Trixie rolled over onto her side so could look Zadkiel in the eye. The angel was sprawled gracelessly on the floor. Her billowing wide-legged pants were bunched around her knees and her auburn hair, usually so perfect, was winding itself free of its combs. The flouncy sleeves of her blouse were spread wide across the floor like a pair of satin wings.

“What purpose?” Trixie asked, trying to keep her tone as light as possible. Something tingled on the edge of her senses and she wasn’t sure if it was from her psychic gifts or simple instinctual wariness. Neither was a particularly attractive prospect. “You said your father doesn’t talk to anyone, so?”

Zadkiel sat up abruptly and adjusted the combs in her hair. “How could I know what Father truly wants?” she paused and looked thoughtful, tapping her chin with her index finger. “I don’t. However, countless centuries have led me to believe that while my conclusion might not be completely accurate, it’s not wholly false either.”

“Right, so you’re old and you know stuff,” Trixie deadpanned, and then rolled back over so that she was looking at the ceiling. “And, well, I guess He is your dad.”

“I’m older than your planet,” the angel said, sounding more tired than annoyed, and rolled to her feet. “All my father has ever wanted is for Lucifer to be happy. And for someone, anyone, to bring him a low-fat latte.”

Trixie snorted a laugh. She knew from experience that at least one of those statements was completely true, while the other was just mostly. For an all too brief moment, she amused herself with the mental image of God sipping on a latte before she was struck with a sudden realization. “But he doesn’t talk to anyone, so he has no idea what would make Lucifer happy.”

“That is my theory,” Zadkiel said sadly, and then rolled her shoulders to unfurl her wings. “Father gives Lucifer what would make Him happy were their situations reversed.”

“Well, that sucks,” Trixie said sourly, at a loss for what else to say. “When are you coming back?”

“In a few days,” the angel answer and once again unfurled her wings. She tilted her head, birdlike, and blinked. “I must see to my students back home.”

There was a sudden gust of wind the rustled the posters on her bedroom walls and sent the papers on her desk flying. Trixie sat up to look at the mess and then glared up at the ceiling before collapsing back on the bed. “Every time…”

 

********

 

There were times where Trixie doubted Zadkiel’s teaching methods. Usually, it was the days where the angel would drop by at odd hours, seemingly for the sole purpose of raiding Lucifer’s stash of snacks. She would then sprawl out on the living room sofa and talk about whatever was currently on her mind.

Very often it was her siblings with Raziel seeming to annoy her the most.

“Little sisters,” the angel had complained as she finished off Lucifer’s last bag of Cool Ranch Puffs, “Are a pain in the ass.”

Very quietly, Trixie pushed open the door leading to her own little sister’s room. It was done in shades purple with a multitude of silver and crystal stars suspended from the ceiling. In the center was an elaborate mahogany crib, its sole occupant swaddled within.

It had been a week since the first half-angel of millennia had taken her first breath, and other than a bit of strange weather, it really hadn’t been that big a deal.  

Kicking off her shoes, Trixie crept across the lavender carpet to the side of the crib and leaned down to carefully tickle the infant’s tummy. “Hey, Phoebe,” she cooed, adjusting the blanket so it didn’t rub the remnants of the infant’s umbilical cord. “Does Mommy know you’re awake?”

Trixie smiled, unable to stop herself and ran a finger down Phoebe’s plump bottom lip. Her eyes were still newborn blue, but the hair was all Lucifer. She wiggled her hand beneath the baby until her fingertips brushed against something impossibly warm and fragile.

“You do have wings,” Trixie murmured, easing her hand out from beneath Phoebe. She pressed her fingertips to her lips, and then pressed them gently against her sister’s forehead.

A light that was felt rather than seen flooded Trixie’s mind, winding itself around her thoughts. It slowly faded, and yet remained, like the remnants of hug that could be felt to the soul. “Yeah,” she whispered as she pulled away, fingers lingering for a moment on Phoebe’s cheek. “I love you, too.” 

Trixie stepped away from the crib and padded across the nursey to adjoining door that led to her mother and Lucifer’s room. She lightly pushed the door open, just enough so that she could see inside the room. Pale and exhausted, her mother nuzzled into the downy cocoon of Lucifer’s wings. She shifted slightly, squishing her face, and the wings tightened around her in response.

Trixie stepped back, pulling the door closed when Chloe suddenly snapped awake.

“Trixie babe?”

Sucking in a breath, Trixie poked her head back into the room. Her mother was sitting up in bed, clutching at Lucifer’s wing as if it were a feathery blanket. “Yeah, Mom?”

Chloe yawned widely and glanced over at Lucifer who muttered something before burying his face into his pillow. She held out her hand, gesturing for Trixie to come to her. “I thought you were with Zadkiel today.”

Trixie sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed and shook her head. “She’ll be here soon.”

Chloe breathed a sigh of relief and stroked Lucifer’s wing with the back of her hand. “I know we haven’t had the chance to talk much lately.”

“Well, you were in labor for three days,” Trixie said with a shrug and wrinkled her nose. “Nana was shocked you knew all those words.”

Chloe laughed, her shoulders shaking, and leaned forward to pull Trixie into a tight hug. She pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. “You’re still my baby girl, no matter what.”

Ducking her head into her shoulders, Trixie squirmed and pulled away. “Mom,” she whined, wrinkling her nose.

Her mother shook her head, smiling softly. She was glowing, not literally, but with a soft inner radius that buzzed against her senses. At first, Trixie had thought it was just mythical pregnancy glow she had heard about so often, but now, she wasn’t quite sure.

“What’s Zadkiel teaching you now?”

Frowning, Trixie tilted her head in a very Zadkiel like fashion and considered for a moment. “Sometimes I don’t think she’s teaching me anything,” she explained and uttered a frustrated sigh. “But then I come home, and I see things I couldn’t before.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” Trixie drew out, pausing to worry at her bottom lip. “I know there are eight psychics at my school, nine if you count Ms. Doyle, and that Aubrey Weiss isn’t human.”

Chloe blinked, her expression paling around the edges. She shifted on the bed, leaning forward, and slipped perfectly into cop mode. “Who’s Aubrey Weiss?”

“A girl in the grade below me,” Trixie explained with a shrug. “All I know is that she makes my brain do backflips when we pass each other in the hall.”

Chloe goggled at her, eyes wide, and then pressed her lips together, shaking her head. She began to speak, but before she could Phoebe uttered a loud, piteous wail. Beside her, Lucifer snapped awake and shoved himself up, looking around with bleary eyes.

“I’ll get her,” he grumbled, yawning as he folded back his wings, but then collapsed face first back into pillows.

Chloe giggled and massaged at the back of his neck, threading her fingers into the curls at his nape. “You were up with her all night,” she said, fondly and motioned to Trixie to move. “She’s probably hungry.”

“Your original offspring is likely hungry, as well,” Lucifer muttered, but didn’t move an inch from his pillow. “Assuming she and my sister haven’t found my teeny tiny donut stash.”

As if summoned, there was a sudden gust of wind and Zadkiel materialized within the bedroom.

“Your donuts are safe, dearest brother,” she hummed, chewing a bit on her bottom lip. “Providing you make good on one of the many favors you owe me.”

“Wait,” Trixie said suddenly and hopped from the bed to bound the nursery. Within infinite care, she picked up Phoebe, gasping softly at the tiny, bald wings twitching at her back and handed her to their mother.

Smiling soft, Chloe tipped her head and gently brought the baby to her breast.  

“I think she heard you coming,” Trixie said softly, pointing at Zadkiel with her chin, and then sat back down on the bed near her mother. She sniffed and grimaced, pinching her nose. “Or she needs a diaper change.”

Zadkiel made a sound, wrinkling her nose, and took a full step back. “Honestly, I’d thought she'd be less floppy by now.”

Chloe shot her an angry look, but instead of saying anything she simply rolled her eyes and nudged Lucifer with her knee. He flopped over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling for a long moment before flicking his gaze back to Zadkiel.

“What’s the favor?”

Zadkiel brightened and breathed a relieved sigh before fussing with one of the combs in her hair. “The building across from Lux is slated for demolition.”

“They sent me a notice a few weeks ago,” Lucifer sighed and yawned into the back of his hand. “It should be easy enough to throw a kink in those plans.”

“Just like that?” Zadkiel smirked, but then beamed, obviously pleased. “And here I thought I’d have to appeal to your better nature.”

“If you were truly grateful,” Lucifer scoffed and rolled over onto his side to bury his face into the small of Chloe’s back, “you’d let the whole matter of the blank cheque go.”

“Not a chance, Lu,” she said with a chuckle, and then extended her hand to Trixie. “Shall we go?”

Trixie gave her mom and sister a quick hug, and then pinched Lucifer’s big toe, giggling softly when he jerked away. She stuck out her tongue when he peaked out from her mother, glaring with one eye.

“Let’s go.”

 

********

Time passed strangely.

There was no other way to describe it. Much of her time was spent on the planes, learning at Zadkiel’s side. The rest of the time she tried to be a normal teenager—or as normal as she could be as the psychic step-daughter of the devil with a half-angel sister.

Even so, everything had worked out most often for the better rather than the worst.

“Hate to interrupt, but I could hear you congratulating yourself from The Silver City and thought I should come down and rain on your proverbial parade.”

Trixie laughed, her cheeks pinking slightly, and turned to smile at Zadkiel. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Yes,” the angel drew out and sat down on the edge of the bed, both hands on her knees. “Because I never drop by unannounced or watch people shower.”

Trixie shook her head. Another thing she had learned was to simply roll with whatever came out of Zadkiel’s mouth. For all she knew, it was true.

“It usually is for the most part,” Zadkiel said with a hum of amusement in her tone.

Trixie frowned, her mood souring. Over the years, she had grown accustomed to the angel reading her thoughts. When she really thought about it, she rather hated not being to keep anything from Zadkiel. Fortunately, she didn’t have to consider the matter very often. While the angel was constantly reading every mind around her, she rarely made it obvious.

“I can’t read Raziel’s mind or Lucifer’s,” the angel had explained when the subject came up long ago. “And you definitely don’t want to know what goes on in Gabriel’s head.” She shivered, and then grinned, suggesting she might not be entirely serious. “But everyone else, yes, with varying degrees of success.”

The angel slipped one of the jeweled combs from her hair and brought it to her lips. She delicately kissed the tines, and then gently slid it into Trixie’s dark hair. “In a few months, perhaps a year, you will see a young man wearing a red sweater sitting alone in a nightclub. Ask if you can join him.”

Trixie nodded slowly and lightly touched the comb in her hair. The comb was pure silver set with a blue-green stone the size of her thumb. It was beautiful and precious and likely had everything to do with Zadkiel’s request.

Part of her wanted to simply agree. Zadkiel did not make requests lightly, which was enough to make Trixie hesitate. “Okay, but why?”

The angel breathed a put-upon sigh and shook her head, her eyes widening in mock disbelief.

“Used to be,” she mused, her tone almost lyrical. “When an angel told a mortal to do something, they’d snap to attention, maybe grovel a bit, and then bugger off and bloody well do it, but now…”

She sighed, loud and put upon, and shook her head in feigned disbelief. “I find your lack of reverence disturbing.”

Trixie laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “Now I know you and Lucifer are related.”

Zadkiel looked positively scandalized and pressed a hand to her chest. “More like he’s related to me.”

Trixie rolled her eyes in what was a near-perfect mirror of her mother’s expression of exasperated affection. “So, what’s my future husband’s name?”

“I’m not that kind of angel, dear,” Zadkiel scoffed, dismissing the entire notion with a wave of her hand. “But his name is Isaac and he’s the last living descendant of someone I lost a long time ago.”

“Lost?” Trixie repeated softly, feeling a sudden weight of sorrow she wasn’t sure was entirely hers. “I thought all your friends ended up in heaven with you?”

“Not all,” Zadkiel said so quietly that Trixie almost didn’t hear. “Her name was Tabitha. She loved life so much that after she died, she leapt from Azrael’s arms and fled back to Earth. All that remains of her is a dwindling bloodline.”

She looked up at Trixie, her eyes wide and unseeing. “I’ve searched for her for over two thousand years.”

“I’m so sorry,” Trixie said helplessly, uncertain as to what else to say. “Did you ask…?” 

She wanted to ask if Zadkiel had asked her father but already knew that even if she had there likely would’ve been no answer.

“Thousands of mortals die every day,” Zadkiel explained, anticipating Trixie’s question. “Sufficed to say, I have not said a word to Azrael since.”

“But she’s your sister,” Trixie gasped, but it sounded almost like a sob. “I can’t go an hour without talking to Phoebe.”

“Phoebe has never dismissed your pain with a shrug and a hearty _my bad_. It’s also incredibly easy for an immortal to avoid the Angel of Death,” Zadkiel said flippantly, and then looked around. “Speaking of. I fully expected to be pounced upon when I arrived.”

“Oh, well, Phoebe got stuck in the ceiling fan again,” Trixie explained, snickering softly. “You should’ve seen it, Mom had to use the broom to get her down.” Her face split into a grin. “So, Lucifer suggested they go to the cabin for the weekend. I would’ve gone, but I have to pack.”

The smile faded from her face and she slid to her knees at the angel’s feet. She carefully touched the comb in her hair. “Will I ever see you again?”

The angel smiled softly before kissing two of her fingers and then pressing them lightly against the center of Trixie’s forehead. “Eventually.”

  
********

Chloe sat in the grass across from Lucifer and eyed the four-year-old tucked in his lap. “So, you’re not going to fly?”

The little girl shook her head vigorously so that her black curls bounced on her shoulders. “Nope.”

“Okay,” Chloe teased, cooing softly as she smiled. “I bet it’s fun.”

Phoebe looked at her mother as if she had suddenly grown a second head and wiggled around on her father’s lap. She reached behind him, and grab hold of one of his wings and inspected it closely, frowning as her fingers ran over the shining white feathers.

Huffing a little breath, she let go of the wing and selected the other. Again, she inspected the wing, but this time nodded in approval before pulling it over herself like a downy blanket.

She looked up at Lucifer, disappointment falling over her features. “You’re missing feathers, Daddy.”

“Ah, yes, I know,” Lucifer purred and shifted so that both wings came around the child in a feathery embrace. “Your mother pulled them out when—”

“Lucifer!”

“—when I made her very happy,” Lucifer said with a satisfied purr, happily ignoring Chloe’s eye-roll.

“Careful, mister,” Chloe said archly and gestured to Phoebe with her chin. “Remember what happened the last time you made me that…happy.”

“I wouldn’t say it was the last time, Detective,” Lucifer began, paling ever so slightly. He frowned in confusion as Phoebe shifted on his lap, unfurling her wings.

“Mommy,” Phoebe chided, huffing as she busily stretched and pulled at her own wings to cover the gaps in her father’s.  “Don’t pull Daddy’s feathers. It’s mean.”

“Okay, sweetie,” Chloe promised, smiling at Lucifer, and looked her daughter in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t particularly—”

There was a sudden uptick in the wind and Zadkiel appeared behind Chloe.

“Brother,” she said coolly, sparing Chloe and Phoebe only the barest of glances. “We need to talk.”

 

********

She missed Zadkiel.

There was a hole in her life where the angel once resided. A dark empty space that seemed to reach into her very soul. Sometimes Trixie wondered if she had done something to make the angel leave. On those nights, she would dream of pure white light, feathers touched with flame and a perfect dark moon.

Lucifer was frustratingly evasive on the matter of his sister. She yelled at him, cried and screamed, stopping just short of begging. When she later apologized, he said nothing but instead pressed a small carving of a stylized torch into her hand.

It was made of pure silver with accents of a dark blue stone on the flames. Two pure white feathers were wound around the torch’s shaft and tied off with a bright crimson ribbon.

Trixie smiled up at him, eyes shining with gratitude, but he simply ignored her and went back to his piano. It was then she realized it wasn’t that Lucifer didn’t want to tell her, but rather because he promised he wouldn’t.

“Thank you,” she mouthed and then flung her arms around him, hugging him from behind. “For everything.”

“Yes, well, as much as I’d love to take all the credit,” he began, meaningfully, and lightly touched the silver torch in her hand. “It was not I who badgered Zadkiel into giving you her aid.”

“Right,” Trixie breathed, tightening her grip on the small torch. A flash of blue wings beating around a dark moon floated across her mind’s eye. At that moment, she knew without question someone, something, was watching.

She stared wide eye at Lucifer who simply shrugged and went back to playing the piano.

 

At first glance, the tunnels beneath Lux hadn’t changed since the last time she had been here. She was just a kid then, plagued by increasingly frequent headaches. Lucifer had called them brain weevils and from the little hole Zadkiel had left in her mind, she knew why.

After a few moments of walking, Trixie neared the place she and Lucifer had left the fetish years ago. It was still there, pristine and polished as if it had just been laid. Breathing in deeply, she centered herself and gently laid the torch on the ground.

The feathers entwining its shaft glowed faintly, reflecting off the dark gemstone flame. “Hi,” she began lamely, feeling a little silly. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but…” she smiled a little and exhaled as something seemed to caress her mind. Around her cracks of light appeared on the floor and stonework around her. She blinked, and they were gone, but for an all brief instant, she had seen them.

“I know you’re a little sister.” She thought of her sister, briefly wondering if the little girl had crashed into yet another ceiling fan when one of the feathers on the torch began to glow with a pale blue light. “And if you’re anything like mine, you’re super annoying. So…” she reached up to touch the comb in her hair. “Tell Zadkiel that I miss her.”

Blinking back tears, she turned away and made her way through the tunnels back to the ladder that would lead to Lux’s wine cellar. From there she made her way into Lux proper and debating whether she should go back up to the penthouse or not when saw a young man wearing a red sweater sitting alone at a table.

Trixie paused in mid-step, breath catching in her throat even as her heart beat rapidly. This was the man Zadkiel wanted her to meet, she was certain of it. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to his table and noticed he was thoroughly engrossed in a medical textbook.

Strange that he would pick a nightclub to study, but then again, it was the middle afternoon, hours before the club would be bursting at the seams. He was also the last living descendant of a psychic angel’s best friend. Suddenly, the whole studying in a nightclub seemed decidedly less weird.

Trixie cleared her throat and smiled broadly when he looked up at her in confusion. He was pretty rather than handsome with pale green eyes and delicate features.

“Uh, hi,” she began lamely, her cheeks pinking. “Is this seat taken?”

The man frowned at her before looking around the near-empty club, and then shrugged before gesturing to the seat across from him. 

“I won’t be much company, I’m afraid,” he said and held up his textbook. “I’m hoping to hear the owner’s first set before I have to head out for the night.”

“That’s okay,” Trixie murmured, a smile in her voice, and then nodded at his pile of books. “You go to UCLA?”

The man glanced up briefly and nodded before returning his attention back to his book. “First-year med.”

“Oh,” Trixie muttered, frowning slightly. This wasn’t going as well as she hoped, but then, there was a good chance this was going exactly as intended. “I’m Beatrice, by the way, but everyone calls me Trixie.”

The man peered at her over his textbook, a small teasing smile curling at his lips. “I’m Isaac,” he said and set down his book, deciding to give up on studying. “But everyone just calls me Isaac.”

The smile faded from his face as tilted his head and looked at her curiously. “We’ve met.”

Trixie shook her head, a familiar sensation buzzing in her mind. Isaac was psychic. She shifted a bit, feeling strangely exposed as if some secret of hers had been revealed. “No,” she said softly, trying her best to sound flirty. “I’d remember.”

Isaac chuckled and reached forward to lightly touch her hand. “Maybe it’s just your comb?”

“My comb?” Trixie asked, touching the comb in her hair. It was strangely warm as it had been the day Zadkiel had given it to her. “It’s my aunt’s, sort of. I mean, she’s sort of my aunt.”

Isaac smiled. He had dimples and smattering of freckles on his nose. “Family friend or step-parent’s sibling?”

“She’s my stepdad’s sister,” Trixie explained, leaving out that her stepdad was, in fact, the owner of the club. “She gave it to me before she left town.”

Isaac pursed his lips and nodded as if she had just confirmed something. “I have one just like it,” he said, and then flushed, shaking his head. “Well, it's not mine. It belonged to my mother.”

“Do you know where she got it?”

“Family legend says that an angel gave it to my many times over great grandmother,” Isaac sighed, shaking his head, and looked slightly embarrassed, “but I’m thinking the truth is closer to China.”

“What if it’s true?” Trixie asked coyly. She wasn’t exactly sure why, but she liked Isaac. “What if an angel did give it to her?”

Isaac gave a little noncommittal shrug, but then rubbed at his temple. “Brain weevils.”

Trixie blinked back in surprise, but then leaned forward, pretending and utterly failing to be nonchalant. “I’m sorry, what?”

He chuckled softly, and then winced, squeezing one eye shut.

“It’s what my grandma used to call her migraines,” he explained and stuck his textbook into the satchel at his feet. “I don’t get them very often, but when I do…”

Trixie nodded and got up from her chair as quietly as possible. He frowned when she took the satchel from him and slung it over her shoulder. “And if yours are anything like mine, you won’t be able to drive,” she explained, holding out her hand. “So, I’ll take you home.”

“You don’t have to…” Isaac frowned, and then sighed, the fight leaving him before it began. “Sure, I’ll let the woman that's suspiciously out of my league take me home. She’s too hot to be a serial killer or anything.”

Trixie blushed furiously and then laughed before hooking her arm with his. “Come on.”

 

In the balcony above, the angel Zadkiel watched Trixie and Isaac leave the club together. “I hear you lurking, Lucifer.”

Lucifer stepped from the shadows, or rather they stepped from him. “I can hardly lurk in my own club, sister,” he mused, fussing with his cufflinks for a moment, and then nodded over the railing. “If he hurts her, I’m holding you responsible.”

“No more than I would hold myself,” she murmured, and then sighed as she pushed away from the railing. “How is my niece?”

“She’s fine,” Lucifer said stiffly, his expression guarded. “Why are you asking?”

Zadkiel took a step toward the penthouse, but then stopped and turned around. “She’s my niece, heir to your Lightbringer abilities, and will one day be one of the most powerful beings in all creation. She's also kind of cute for someone trapped in her larval form.”

Lucifer frowned, clearly uncomfortable, his jaw clenching as he ground his teeth. “She’s also terrified of being sucked into a jet turbine.”

“That’s a rather specific phobia,” Zadkiel mused, sucking on her bottom lip. “But then we angels tend to be specific, almost peculiarly so.”

“You hurt the offspring when you left,” Lucifer growled, his anger simmering just below the surface. “I warned you.”

“Yes,” Zadkiel answered, quietly fuming. “And then you helped her sic Raziel on me, again. So, we’re even.”  She sighed, glaring briefly at the sky, and flicked her gaze back to Lucifer. “Well, not quite. You still owe me a favor.”    

Lucifer’s jaw tightened, and he gave his cufflinks one last tug before straightening to his full height. “Fine, but tread carefully Zadkiel.”

“Ugh, not everyone is out to get you, Lucifer,” she groaned, waving him off, and then seemed to reconsider. “All right, fine, most people are out to get you. But I’m currently not, so shut it.”

Lucifer grimaced, his eyes flickering red for a brief instant. “Zadkiel,” he growled out in warning.

Zadkiel sighed and laid her hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. “All I ask of you, brother,” she said, softly. “Is for you to do everything in your power to be happy. Do that and your debt to me is paid.”

Lucifer leaned forward and gripped the balcony railing with both hands. “Be happy,” he repeated to himself, fighting off a wave of dread. “What do you know?”

“I know that if I remain, what happened to the psychics of the old world will happen to those of the new,” Zadkiel said mournfully and tucked her hands into her billowing sleeves. “I don’t have your faith in humanity, brother. I don’t believe any of us do.”

“They’re absurd creatures,” Lucifer said, almost fondly, and pushed away from the balcony. There was something else clearly on his mind, something he had been avoiding until now. “I’m surprised none of you have come for Phoebe.”

“She’s sticky,” Zadkiel chirped with a shrug. “And a wing puller. As in she pulls wings with her sticky fingers.”

She sighed and moved to stand next to Lucifer. “Phoebe is half-human which makes her off limits. She’s also immortal, which sort of circles back to the whole, she’s one day going to be one of the most powerful beings in all creation. Our siblings aren’t the brightest bunch, but they’re not complete idiots.”

“Oh?” Lucifer very nearly purred, smirking. “Things have changed since I’ve been away.”

Zadkiel giggled and stepped away from the rail. “The more things change…”

There was a sudden gust of wind and Lucifer knew without turning around that Zadkiel was gone.

“The more things stay the same,” he whispered, glancing up at the ceiling of Lux. For the first time in centuries, he wondered what was happening in The Silver City. The thought vanished as quickly as it appeared. It was time for his set. Afterward, he would speak with the offspring and make arrangements to meet with Isaac. The boy needed to be fully aware of what would happen should he dare to break the original offspring's heart. Until then, he would do his best to keep his end of the bargain with Zadkiel. He would be happy, and in doing so make certain Chloe, their daughter, and the offspring were happy as well. But mostly, he would wait for Raziel to annoy Zadkiel into returning to earth once more. 


End file.
